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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146383">Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsrising/pseuds/wordsrising'>wordsrising</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the Shifting Bones [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Flight Rising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Found Family, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:41:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsrising/pseuds/wordsrising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Home isn't always the place you live; sometimes it's the people you come back to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the Shifting Bones [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alseide sighed, glancing back at the horizon, where the sun balanced like a coin waiting to drop the wasteland into darkness and cast the chill of night over it all, Alseide included.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prudence dictated she find someplace high and tilted dawnward to sleep, so that the rising sun would warm her awake and she could continue her journey, but she was so close.  She could make it back to the Stone in a few hours at her current speed, but with no Warden-shunned swarm to keep her warm through it she’d never last that long into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should have taken that pack of Tundras up on their offer.  Tundras were warm and furry and they’d been willing to let her ride along without having to stretch her wings unless they ran into trouble.  But their route would have added two whole days to her travel time, and she’d turned them down.  Now here she was, alone in the beginnings of twilight and only halfway through the Boneyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alseide sighed, turning her gaze forward again, hoping to spot suitable shelter.  If not for this useless little cold-hating body she was stuck in, she could keep going without worry, but no: all her cozy fur and her great claws were gone, and her tiny insectoid wings stirred her rubbish-at-warmth mane as she flew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun slipped below the horizon behind her before she’d found anything that would protect her through torpor and still allow the sun to wake her in the morning, and she muttered a heartfelt curse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp whistle above her had her ducking sideways, rolling lower in the air and scanning for an attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, little Gaoler: it’s just me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flaxen-haired harpy in a dark blue mask with rich brown feathers backwinged to land in front of Alseide, smiling.  Shatza, a member of Des’s little harpy gang, could find a reason to smile smugly in just about any situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing out here?” Alseide demanded, staying airborne in a vain effort to generate a little warmth through exertion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your partner’s had half the flock on lookout,” Shatza said.  “Just in case you decided to be a fool and fly home alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alseide glared at her, which was not as effective as it would have been before she’d been cursed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shatza laughed at her, fluffing up her feathers.  “I fly faster than you and I’m warm,” she pointed out.  “Do you want to get home awake or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alseide continued to glare for a few seconds more before giving up and darting over, draping herself over Shatza’s shoulders and soaking in her body heat with a relieved sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shatza laughed at her again, waiting for Alseide to hook her claws into the harpy’s sash before taking off again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the journey went much faster, given Shatza was four or five times Alseide’s size with wings to match; not even an hour later, Shatza was prodding her off at the mouth of the Stone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alseide obligingly abandoned Shatza, darting into the cavern eagerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Stone’s other resident and the only member of the clan who didn’t wander with the rest of them raised his head as soon as she zipped inside, his glowing-red eyes somehow soft as he turned them toward her, and Alseide smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something about Pilane that was… the only word she could find to describe it was ‘solid’, but the word paled in comparison to what it described.  Pilane was solid in the way mountains were solid, in the way glaciers were.  He was solid like bedrock, solid like the Warden’s will, solid like tradition and time and the very concept of solidness in and of itself.  If pushed to sum him up in a way that stood the faintest chance of letting another dragon understand it, Pilane felt like the Fortress of Ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pilane felt like home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would never have guessed she’d find a piece of home so far from it, buried under the diseased lands of the Plaguebringer, trapped in a cavern of dark damp stone so unlike the ice caves she’d patrolled as a fledgling, so removed from the snow-covered slopes and wine-dark seas too cold to swim in, yet here he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home, little sister,” Pilane said, dipping his head in greeting.  His voice was deep and echoed, layered over itself like two voices speaking in unison from deep within a well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alseide smiled wider, flitting over and immediately burying herself in Pilane’s great shaggy mane, wiggling her way up to the top of his head and curling around the base of one antler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to be back, elder brother,” she replied into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your trip?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pilane didn’t sleep and Alseide was warm enough to stay awake, so she passed the night regaling him with tales of the outside world.  Pilane was her Fortress, her family, her home, and if he couldn’t go out to experience the world for himself, she was happy to help him experience it vicariously through her.</span>
</p>
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